


In the Morning

by peejiodo



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bottom Luke, Calum Hood & Ashton Irwin Friendship, Drunken Confessions, Loss of Virginity, Luke is clueless, M/M, Pining, Top Michael, michael’s an embarrassed mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25685425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peejiodo/pseuds/peejiodo
Summary: “I’m... I’m nervous. You can’t make fun of me.”Luke looks so sincere now, even through his drunkenness, that it makes Michael’s stomach drop. He moves to sit beside Luke on the bed so that he knows he has his full attention and places a hand on his thigh. Luke’s eyes fall to where he’s touching him, and he seems distracted now.“I promise I won’t make fun of you. Whatever you ask.”—Or; Luke has never had sex. He wants to change that, so he turns to his best friend, Michael, for help. The only problem is, Luke doesn’t know that Michael is completely and recklessly in love with him.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	1. I trust you

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written a fanfiction in 7 years. Here’s me trying again for the first time in a very long time. <3

“Luke, you don’t get a say in this. You’ve never even had sex.”

Here we go again.

“ _Oh,_ that’s funny, I guess you’re right. Because I’ve never had sex, I can’t tell if someone’s flirting. You know what, that makes sense.”

Luke makes sure to look Calum in the eye to show off the scowl on his face. With how often he has to put up with the virgin jokes as if he’s still in high school, it’s pretty clear that he’s trying to disseminate just how unfunny he finds them.

He should’ve known his friends better than that, though. He should’ve known that the sarcasm and the pouting would make everything much worse.

“Aw, are you embarrassed, pretty boy?” Calum asks into the shell of Luke’s ear. “Do you wish someone would _pop_ -“ he emphasizes the word with a shake of Luke’s shoulders, “your cherry?”

Ashton is crowding in on Luke’s space too, hollowing his cheeks around his finger in his own mouth in a deliberately obscene way. The sight of it, how audacious it is, makes Luke’s face warm and colour bright red. “Don’t be gross,” he grumbles. He slaps at Ashton’s hand to get it away from his mouth. His friends don’t let the harassment go on too long, though; the colour on Luke’s cheeks seems to be satisfying that they’ve embarrassed him enough, and they disarm and back off with good-natured laughs.

From where Michael is sitting at the other side of the room, his face is pretty red too. And he doesn’t seem to find anything all that funny. He hates this particular trend of teasing that Calum and Ashton like to play out against Luke. Maybe it’s because he knows Luke is actually really insecure about never having had sex. Or maybe because Luke told him once that he was terrified — terrified to be that vulnerable with someone.

Or, maybe, it’s because he is too in love with Luke to ever be okay watching him be picked on. Maybe.

“Fuck off, leave him alone,” he says, and then quieter, “Such a stupid thing to pick on someone for.”

“Yeah, I know,” Calum says from the couch now, head on Luke’s shoulder — a hard switch from the bully-like demeanour he was possessing just a few seconds ago. “It’s just an easy thing to be mean about and I’m not into hard work.”

“That’s not the reason I do it,” says Ashton. “I just think it’s fucking hilarious that Luke easily has the most people interested in him. No one would guess, is all I’m saying. He’s got such a pretty face...” He moves his hand to cup Luke’s chin and tilt his head around a little, examine just how pretty he really is. Luke doesn’t resist.

Watching it makes Michael feel sick.

And under the scrutiny of his friend’s eyes on his face so intently, up comes the blush rushing over Luke’s cheeks again. He’s so pink, so shy-looking, so splotchy and pretty and Michael is convinced he should be looking away. He thinks, with a twist in his stomach, that Luke would find him creepy for the way he’s staring, watching the colour move down his neck, over his chest that’s half exposed by his sheer shirt, staring now at the sheen of the body glitter he put on his collar bones...

Michael has to stand up. He leaves his chair abruptly and walks over to the sink to fill himself a glass of water. He’s desperately thirsty all of a sudden.

As he gulps the water back, eyes pressed closed, he tries to focus his hearing away from the conversation that’s continuing on the couch.

“I’m positive there are plenty of guys that would want to fuck you, Luke. I don’t know why you don’t just get it over with,” Calum says. Michael rolls his eyes from where he’s facing away from the group. Obviously, Calum doesn’t get it.

“You don’t get it, Calum. I don’t want to have sex with just anyone. At least, not right now.”

“Okay, okay, that’s fair. I just think sex doesn’t have to be that big of a deal.”

“It _is_ a big deal, asshole,” Michael interjects, walking back to his chair with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. They have this conversation so often and it always gives him such a headache. “For most people, it is.”

His words are coming out harsh, but when he locks eyes with Calum, his expression is pleading. He hopes he catches it, reads something in him that’s silently begging him to drop the topic, because thinking about Luke having sex with anyone but him just makes him feel hurt and wrong.

Somehow, Calum seems to get it. He throws up his hands in mock surrender and Ashton laughs at him. Ashton’s laugh is so ridiculous that it brings everyone back to a place of ease. But Michael saw the look in Calum’s eyes, almost like he was taking pity on him when he decided to quit the teasing.

“I mean... I know you guys are just trying to help. But... There’s not really anyone who wants to have sex with me that I want to be like... my first. So, if that changes, I’ll let you know.”

Michael has to catch himself before he lets himself imagine what it would be like if Luke let him be the one to change it.

———

On the short walk down the hall to their hotel rooms, Luke is clung to Michael’s arm with his head on his shoulder, a position he takes up often. Calum and Ashton wave good night and walk into their separate doors, and Michael is left to escort Luke to his door just before his own.

“Good night,” Michael says, the words coming out thick. Today has drained him, emotionally and physically.

“Night, Mikey.” Luke says, the front of Michael’s shirt balled in his hand like it so often is. He doesn’t look tired at all. Usually Michael’s the one to come alive in the nighttime, and Luke is the one barely making it to his bed at night before his eyes are already drifting shut. But today’s show invigorated Luke. He came off stage saying that he felt like he’d never done a better job. And Michael might agree: Luke’s vocals were so strong, he engaged the crowd effortlessly, and put so much emotion and skill behind every strum of his guitar. Michael felt lucky just to share a stage with him tonight, to just have the pleasure of being able to watch him up close.

Then again, Michael feels like that most nights.

“Sweet dreams,” Michael says, leaning up a little to press a kiss to Luke’s forehead. He remembers a time when Luke was smaller than him and could fit so perfectly against his side when they hugged. Somewhere along the way, he became this... giant. But Michael still can’t make himself stop thinking of him as his baby.

They tease each other in public. But they’re always so tender like this in private.

Luke smiles as he slips into his room, and when Michael turns to do the same, he tries to ignore the dull ache in his chest at having to sleep alone.

———

Despite being so tired, it’s a restless night for Michael. He tried showering, watching a movie, he even got up for some jumping jacks. But he couldn’t sleep.

He just felt like too much. Like his desires were too big. Like everything that he wanted was just too much to ask. Every time he closed his eyes and began drifting towards sleep, he’d start to picture himself ballooning into something that took up too much space and became this embarrassing nuisance. His family called him a burden. His friends told him they needed space. Luke told him he couldn’t give him what he was asking for.

And then he’d wake up.

Just as he is about to give up on sleep altogether, he hears a knock at the door.

He jumps and turns to look at the time. 4:43 AM.

He’s quick to get to the door, fearful that something must be wrong.

When he finds Luke on the other side, smiling shyly at him, a swoosh of something like panic and relief at the same time moves from his chest to his stomach.

“Luke. Are you okay?”

Luke nods. “Mhmm. Can I come in?”

Michael nods right away and let’s him in. But as he steps over the threshold and into the room, there’s a doe-like quality to his walk that makes Michael register something.

“You’re drunk.”

“Nooo, I’m not, I’ve just had a little to drink, just a little bit,” Luke insists, but there’s a sweet slur to his words that tells Michael the truth. He should be annoyed. He should be.

But he’s smiling instead.

Smiling because Luke came to _him_ drunk in the middle of the night. _Michael_ , not anyone else.

“Luke, sit down,” he says as he guides Luke to the bed. He himself opts to lean against the wall beside where Luke is sitting and wait for him to tell him what’s up.

“Mikey... I want to ask you something.” Luke is looking up at him through his lashes and he looks so pretty like that that it has Michael shifting a little where he stands.

“You can ask me anything.” He can feel all of the hairs on his arms stand on end as he allows himself to imagine what the question might be.

“I’m... I’m nervous. You can’t make fun of me.”

Luke looks so sincere now, even through his drunkenness, that it makes Michael’s stomach drop. He moves to sit beside Luke on the bed so that he knows he has his full attention and places a hand on his thigh. Luke’s eyes fall to where he’s touching him, and he seems distracted now.

“I promise I won’t make fun of you. Whatever you ask.”

There’s a long silence.

A long while where Luke just stares at Michael’s hand on his thigh and Michael watches Luke staring. Deep breaths fill the room.

Michael almost thinks that Luke forgot when-

“I want you to have sex with me.”

Ten seconds go by. Fifteen seconds. Twenty. Michael can’t push passed the panic to make himself say anything.

“Mike... please.”

There Luke’s hand goes clutching to the front of Michael’s shirt again. It’s always there whenever it can be, so maybe that’s why it acts as an anchor to bring Michael back to his body. And maybe it’s the terrified look on his face, the expression that he’s going to run away crying any second, that incites Michael to action.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and it’s so tender, so honest, and he hopes Luke feels it even passed the cloud of intoxication, feels it to mean everything he’s trying to make it mean. _I wish I could. But I’d end up taking too much_. “You don’t... really mean that. You’re just drunk.”

“Yes I _do_ , Mike, yes I do, I mean it, I know that I’m drunk but I’m just saying what I mean, so much, I just, I want it-“

Michael tries to soothe him with a hand on his cheek. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s okay.” He has to swallow a big lump in his throat that is trying to convince him not to talk anymore. He wishes his voice would come out steady, like he’s strong and capable of not crumbling at just the idea of being close to Luke like that. He wishes he wasn’t picturing it. He wishes the hand he’s trying to use to calm Luke wasn’t shaking. “Why...” Deep breath. “Why do you think you want me to have sex with you?”

Luke opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a sob as he collapses against Michael’s chest. Michael holds him close, rubs his back, looks up to the ceiling to keep himself from crying at the sight of Luke so distressed.

“You’re my best friend, Michael, my favourite person, you’re, you’re the perfect person to do this. I’ve thought about it, I promise I have, I’ve been so scared to have sex and I don’t know _why_. I feel so _stupid._ You’re my- Mikey, you’re, I just think. You’d make me feel safe! You’re experienced, I trust you- you know, I trust you to do a good job. You won’t hurt me. You _know_ me...” Luke’s rambling, but Michael couldn’t imagine missing a single word. “You _love me_ -“

Michael tenses up. He feels caught. He feels like he’s been peering at Luke through a peephole and he’s finally been spotted. He knows Luke probably doesn’t mean _in love_ , but he feels guilty as if he’s been found out nonetheless.

“You’re my best friend, Mikey...”

“You’re mine too.” It’s barely a whisper. It’s true. But it’s not the whole picture.

Then there’s a long time before either of them speaks. It’s tense. It’s just waiting.

“I can’t, Luke. You’re drunk. I can’t know for sure that you mean it.”

Luke looks broken. Every time he blinks, a new washing of tears streak his cheeks pink.

“But, I do...”

More silence. The air between them feels fractured.

Michael wants to say yes. Of _course_ he does. But he can’t. Not when Luke doesn’t know really what he’d be doing to him.

But seeing Luke look so small and defeated in front of him, like this was his one shot to get over this hurdle and Michael was taking it away...

“Tell you what.” Big gulp. Deep breath. Eyes looking deliberately at Luke’s lips and not his sad eyes. “If you ask me again in the morning...”

Luke lights up, waiting. Seeing him look so hopeful with tear stains still marking his pretty face, Michael could accidentally give him everything he’s ever wanted.

“If you... Yeah, okay. Um. If you ask me again tomorrow. I’ll say yes.”

Luke throws himself at Michael into a hug that knocks him onto his back. He’s kissing his face all over and Michael feels so fucking overwhelmed. He can’t be pinned down by Luke right now — beautiful, sweet Luke. He’s fucked himself, Michael has. Made it impossible for himself to ever stop falling in love with him. He can’t be in this position. He might not be able to stop himself from leaning up to catch his lips in a kiss. Luke’s lips, which are so close to his own...

“Okay,” he says over an awkward chuckle as he forces himself back into a sitting position. Luke’s still clinging to him, beaming. “I think you should go try and sober up a bit. I’m not gonna have an easy time saying yes to someone who’s hungover, either.”

That alone seems to sober Luke up a little, as if he can’t toy around with the prospect of losing a yes.

“Okay. Okay,” he repeats, standing up and pulling Michael by the hand to the door. “Okay. I’ll go to bed. Good night. Thank you.”

Michael nods, moving Luke’s hair away from his face to kiss his forehead. But Luke takes the opportunity of having their faces so close together to kiss Michael chastely on the lips.

It makes Michael feel dizzy. Fuck, how is he ever going to _have sex_ with Luke.

Maybe Luke will forget. Or he’ll regret ever saying anything and pretend it never happened.

But Luke must be able to read Michael perfectly. “I promise I’ll ask you tomorrow. Means too much to me to forget.”

And then he’s gone. And Michael’s alone again.

He needs another shower. There’s no way he’s sleeping at all tonight.

———

With the hot water pounding against his shoulders and back, Michael lets himself imagine touching Luke. Kissing him. _Fucking him_.

It feels wrong to just allow himself to do it. Under any other circumstance, he’d suppress the thoughts, do everything to stomp them out. Thinking about Luke is dangerous. Because if he gets off to the thought of him one night, how will he look him in the eye the next morning? Will he know? Will he see his guilt? Will he feel disgusted?

But tonight, Michael lets himself be weak. He lets his hand wander his body and pictures how stunning Luke would look beneath him, how his skin would be soft and flushed pink. He imagines how he’d sound, mouth pressed against his ear. He imagines kissing him like he’s always wanted to, hands in his hair, hands on his skin, hands anywhere and everywhere because he wants everything.

Maybe tomorrow, this dream world he’s in will be shattered, and he’ll be thrown back into a reality where Luke doesn’t want him back, where Luke regrets ever getting so drunk that it made him stupid and say things he didn’t mean.

But at least tonight, he gets to stay here. Here, where he can pretend this is the start of everything he’s wanted for eight years.

———

The sun rises before Michael gets very much sleep. But he isn’t tired. He’s on edge.

His morning starts with breakfast with all of the guys, and Luke says nothing.

Work out. Luke says nothing.

Rehearsal. Luke says _nothing_.

It feels like all morning, he’s waiting for Luke to say _anything. Do_ anything. A glance, a smile, a look, anything at all that confirms to Michael that he didn’t dream everything that happened last night. But he knows he couldn’t have dreamt it. In his dreams, he never says no to Luke.

So much tension and panic build up inside of Michael that he finds himself wishing Luke would just tell him outright it was a prank, call him crazy for ever falling for it, call him stupid and pathetic for believing he’d ever want to get fucked by _him_. He finds himself in such an anxious, depressed state that even Ashton points it out, asking him what the fuck is wrong. Nothing, he insists, just that he didn’t get very much sleep last night.

He’s pacing in the hall just before they all pile into a van to get something to eat, when Luke turns the corner. He looks so calm and cool, and Michael suddenly gets very self-conscious that he probably looks like a frantic mess.

“Hey!” Luke calls out, and he’s beaming. Michael feels so small and embarrassed under his gaze. He knows he can see how this has been eating him alive all day.

That, or Luke’s not even thinking about it. Maybe he’s still not going to even mention it at all.

“Hey,” Michael says quietly, and somehow, Luke’s got him backed against a wall and is leaning over him.

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you.”

Michael gulps. Nods. Waits to be let down.

“About... about last night.” Well, at least he remembers.

“Yeah, I was wondering if you’d be bringing it up,” Michael says over a chuckle, trying to sound collected.

“I just wanted to apologize. For being so drunk when I came by. And... you know. For coming over at like, five in the morning...”

There it is. An apology. A retraction. “Hey, man, it’s okay. As long as you’re okay.” Michael feels like he might throw up if he has to pretend to be okay with all of this one second longer. He makes a motion to leave, but Luke grabs his arm.

“Wait, I, uh... I’m not done.”

Michael’s head is pounding with the sound of his heart slamming against his rib cage.

“What I said last night... I, uh. I meant it. And you said if I asked, you know, in the morning...”

Michael’s nodding because it’s the only thing he can bring himself to do.

“Well, I just want to know... if you, uh, if you meant what you said, too.”

He can’t believe it. Michael can’t believe any of this is happening right now. Luke, _sober, in broad daylight_ , is here again, asking him if he’ll have sex with him. He feels again like he could be sick, but for a whole different reason now.

He takes a second to try and ground himself in reality, remind himself that this doesn’t mean Luke wants him back. It’s like he said last night: _You’re my best friend, Michael. You’d make me feel safe. I’d trust you to do a good job. You won’t hurt me_. Michael’s just the only guy Luke knows with experience fucking other guys. He’s just asking for a favour. Because he’s the safe option.

“Yeah. I meant it too. If you’re sure that’s what you want-“

“I am. I’m positive.”

“Then, yeah. Okay. I’m happy to help.”

Luke looks as hopeful as he did last night, crappy hotel room light gleaming in his wet eyes. _God_ , he’s so pretty, so _unbelievable_ , that Michael could get on his knees for him right now and give him anything he asked for. He brings him into a tight hug and they sway back and forth there in the hallway. Michael knows by now that the other guys are waiting for them, but he’d stay here forever if it meant being close to Luke like this, getting to be the one to make him so happy. His mind keeps repeating it over and over, _anything, anything, I’d give you anything at all._

“Thank you, Michael, thank you so much. Means the world to me, I can’t even tell you how much it means to me, thank you.” He’s whispering it right in Michael’s ear, and it feels so intimate that Michael can’t help pretending they could always be like this.

“Don’t thank me,” he says quietly, eyes closed. What if he opens them, and all of this disappears?

When Luke pulls back, he puts his hand to his mouth and starts biting his thumbnail, staring so intensely at Michael’s lips. He moves like he’s about to walk away, but he stops.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks. His heart feels like it’s in his throat.

“Um... when?”

“When?”

“When do you, um... _want to?_ ”

“Oh.” This is real. This is really happening. “Whenever you want?”

Luke nods slowly, still staring at Michael’s lips and not his eyes. He waits a long time before he says anything. Almost too long for Michael to bear.

When he finally speaks, it’s so quiet that it comes out sounding choked and terrified. “Tonight?”

Michael could pass out. “Um... okay. Tonight.”

Luke lets out such a long, relieved sigh that he must’ve been holding his breath. “Tonight,” he repeats, a glowing smile on his face. He leans in to leave a peck on Michael’s cheek and then walks towards the door.

Michael doesn’t realize until he gets outside to the van that he’s been holding his hand over the place on his cheek where Luke kissed him the entire time.

———

Michael should have never agreed to have sex with Luke tonight knowing full well he’d have to spend the rest of the day with him first.

Every second of the day was torturous knowing he’d have Luke in his bed in just a few hours. Every time they’d accidentally brush up against each other, every time they’d catch each other’s eye unintentionally had Michael sweating, shivering, spiralling. He was always bad at keeping his eyes to himself when it came to Luke, always bad at keeping his thoughts clean. But today, it was almost impossible not to picture everything he wanted to do to him every time he was in his line of sight.

It didn’t matter that the sex they were planning to have wasn’t going to be very sexy at all. Michael felt like he was drowning and he didn’t want to be saved.

Now he’s sitting here, watching Luke eat a popsicle to soothe his throat before he has to go on stage and sing for a couple of hours, and Michael wants to walk into the flames of the sun.

Luke, well, he seems to have no idea what he’s doing to him.

The whole show, Michael’s head isn’t in it. He’s preoccupied with how Luke’s mouth moves against the microphone when he sings real close to it; how expertly his fingers work at the strings on his guitar; how ungodly he looks, sweating through his shirt, smiling prettier than any boy should be able to smile. Michael doesn’t mean to think it, but he can’t help it: Luke’s so beautiful, he probably isn’t from this world. He’s desperate for a day when he gets to call him his angel, and for Luke to know he means it.

He’s never allowed himself to think this wistfully before. But he knows that feeling this good won’t last, so he better relish in it while he can.

———

“You guys down to hang in my room tonight?” Ashton says on the car ride back to the hotel after their show. From where Michael is sitting in the back seat, he can see Luke smile and look down at his phone.

_Luke <3: uh oh! what’s our excuse?_

When he sees Luke’s message, he looks up immediately and catches Luke watching him in the rear-view mirror. He has such a shy smile on his face that it makes Michael smile, too.

_Michael: dunno, but i’ll corroborate whatever you say :)_

Luke clears his throat and scratches his eyebrow when Ashton presses him again. “I, uh, I actually have plans.”

“What plans?” Calum asks, and he rightfully sounds a little confused. Luke never has plans aside from the ones he makes with his band mates, and what the fuck kind of plans could he possibly have now that they’re driving back to the hotel? There’s an uncomfortable silence before Luke seems to figure out how he’s going to answer the question.

“Um... well, actually. I’m planning to have sex tonight.”

Michael chokes on his water and spits it all over his lap. But the other guys don’t notice much, because they’re all over Luke, whooping and yelling and slapping him on the back and shaking his shoulders and probably giving him a concussion. All Michael can think is _holy shit_.

“Dude! Fucking look at you go, bro. Finally!” Calum hollers. He punctuates it by shoving Luke up against the car door. Luke rubs his arm and blushes so hard it’s visible in the dim light.

Ashton leans over his seat to get close to Luke’s ear. “Who’s the lucky guy, huh?”

“Ohh, I don’t... I don’t know if I should say.”

“Come on, we’re your friends, we won’t tell.”

Michael looks up and catches Luke’s gaze in the rear-view mirror again. He looks coy and pretty but also like he’s searching for an answer. Like he’s... asking for permission. And Michael’s heart starts screaming _anything you want anything you want anything you want._

So Michael gives a little, cautious nod. Because if Luke wants to say it, he can say it. He can have anything.

“It’s Mike,” he says. He says it without hesitating, and it makes Michael’s stomach drop.

Everyone in the car gets pretty silent after that.

Ashton clears his throat. Calum scratches his chin. Michael counts thirty seconds before anyone says anything.

“Michael? Like, this guy right here?” Calum asks, eyes wide and pointing right in Michael’s face.

“Yeah, this guy right here.” Michael says. Usually he’d slap Calum’s finger out of his face. But Luke doesn’t look bothered by everyone being confused. He looks confident and uncaring. So Michael wants to try and emulate that as much as he can, make sure everyone knows he’s not ashamed or embarrassed of it. Even if he might, in truth, be panicking so much he can hardly breathe.

One thing he can’t do right now is look any of his friends in the eyes.

“You’re gonna fuck Michael Clifford,” Ashton says. Michael can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a question.

“Actually,” Luke says over a laugh, “I was more so thinking, like, get fucked _by_ Michael Clifford.”

“Oh! Oh my god!” Calum and Ashton are screaming and covering their ears like small children, and Luke can’t stop laughing. Even Michael can’t help but let out a chuckle in spite of himself.

The rest of the ride back, after Luke explained it wasn’t a big deal (which Michael doesn’t want to admit made his heart ache), the guys stopped teasing and the conversation shifted to setlists and video games and sleeping schedules. But Michael couldn’t help noticing Calum’s eyes peering at him the whole rest of the way to the hotel.

———

The elevator ride at the hotel up to their floor was awkward. As opposed to confronting the fact that their two band mates were on their way to have sex with each other, Calum and Ashton seemed to opt for silence instead. 

Ashton _did_ , however, decide to give them an uncomfortable speech before entering his room about _wrapping it up_ and _being explicit_ with their consent that was definitely made simply in an attempt to mortify Michael.

It worked.

Luke, on the other hand, only giggled at his teasing, and Michael watched him in awe, wondering how in the world he could be so unphased.

When they were finally alone in the hallway, Michael could feel the energy between them change.

“Mikey,” Luke moves closer to him, whispers in his ear. He’s got his fist balled in the front of Michael’s shirt again, but instead of just keeping it there, he’s using it to pull him closer.

“Yes, Luke.” Their faces are so close together, and Michael knows they’re in a public hallway, but he’s so dangerously close to leaning in and closing the space between their mouths. Not being able to be alone with him all day felt like a sick game, and he can’t believe how good it feels to finally be out of that car and here together by themselves.

Luke watches him closely, eyes dragging up his face, then down it again, and Michael feels dizzy under his attention. “I’m going to go to my room and, um,” he bites his lip, takes a shaky breath. “Shower. You know. Get ready.” Michael nods and wonders how he’s even able to hear him through the pounding in his ears. “Can I meet you in your room after?”

“Of course you can, yeah, whenever you’re... whenever you’re ready.”

There’s a charged moment where they watch each other before Luke nods and heads to his room. Without Luke there to hold him up by his shirt, Michael feels like he can hardly stand.

———

The time it takes Luke to get ready is too long for Michael to sit alone with his thoughts. It’s long enough for him to scrutinize himself in the mirror and decide he’s never been uglier, delude himself into believing everything that happened today was a trick or a dream, and convince himself Luke isn’t coming.

But then there’s a knock at the door.

And then, Luke is standing in front of him, looking shy and _beautiful_ , and everything Michael’s ever worried about dissipates. Luke’s always been that person for him, the one to make him feel like everything’s okay.

Luke’s the first one to speak. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Thanks for coming,” Michael replies. He regrets how pathetic it sounds the second it comes out of his mouth.

But if Luke thought it sounded pathetic, he doesn’t let on. He just smiles, hands in his sweatpants pockets, looking so small all of a sudden. Looking like he’s waiting. And Michael realizes he’s probably supposed to do something.

“Do you want to, um-“

“Yeah.” Luke sounds so sure. It has Michael aching.

“Okay.” He moves closer, raises a hand that he wishes wasn’t shaking to move Luke’s hair out of his face. “So... am I allowed to kiss you?” And he wishes he didn’t say _allowed_ , it sounds too vulnerable, exposes too much about what’s always going on inside his head, and he’s worried Luke’s going to read it on him, worried he’s going to see how desperate he is for something that’s just supposed to be a favour, worried he’ll get creeped out and leave. But in the half second it takes Michael’s brain to spiral, Luke’s already nodding and leaning in. And then they’re kissing. Just like that.

Something he’s fantasized about being _allowed_ to do since he was so young. And it’s just happening.

If Michael thought he was dizzy last night when Luke pecked him on the lips, he thinks that there might not be a word yet for what he feels right now.

They’re moving closer together now. Michael’s being pulled into it by his shirt. Luke might be inexperienced in many ways, but he’s not an inexperienced kisser, and Michael’s learning in real time that he knows how to get what he wants out of it. Luke’s so _pliant_ , so open, and everything about his demeanour is begging to be taken control of. They come apart, forehead to forehead, and Michael can’t meet Luke’s dazed expression. It’s just too much.

“Clarify for me what you want now.” It’s a whisper, because his heart feels like it’s taken up his whole chest and is suffocating any sound that’s trying to get out.

“Hm. For you to fuck me. Was I unclear?” Michael can tell Luke’s trying not to laugh, but he looks so pretty pressing his lips together like that that it makes everything so much worse for Michael.

“You were. I don’t know. I’m just checking. Making sure you mean like _fuck you_ , fuck you. Like, you know-“

“Yeah, like.” He presses his lips to Michael’s ear, lets out a hot breath that makes him shudder. “Fuck me. Inside me. _Please_.”

If it weren’t for how embarrassing it would be, Michael’s legs would give out underneath him at that alone. And he has the startling thought that he might not survive this.

“Okay,” he says on an exhale. Presses his eyes closed. Makes himself open them again. “Lay down.”

And maybe he shouldn’t have opened his eyes. Because Luke looks so coy, so teasing as he climbs backwards into the bed, as he pulls Michael down by his shirt and into a kiss, as he lets his head fall back against the pillow. Now Michael can’t stop staring at his neck, can’t stop thinking about how he might just let him get his mouth on it.

“Can we take these off,” Luke whispers, tugging at Michael’s shirt the way he always does. Michael will never be able to think of it the same again.

Nodding, he takes his own shirt off, but his hand falters when he goes to do the same for Luke’s, and Luke must notice, because he guides Michael’s hand through the action. It’s not the first time or the last time where Michael realizes the irony that _he’s_ supposed to be helping _Luke_ , not the other way around.

They kiss like that for a while, and Luke’s all hands and teeth, pulling at Michael’s hair, nipping at his lips, kissing his ear and his neck. Michael’s a little blissed out, almost not registering anything except how _good_ it feels to have Luke under him like this. It’s not until Luke starts moving his hips and whining _please_ into his ear that he comes back to his body.

He pulls back quickly, which leaves Luke chasing his touch a little. But he falls back onto the pillow and allows himself to catch his breath when he realizes what Michael is doing.

“I can just, um, grab these, you know, uh, for, for when we...” he stammers as he grabs a condom and a bottle of lube out of the hotel bedside drawer. He’d be ashamed to admit out loud that he didn’t put them there tonight, just before Luke came over. He put them there yesterday night, so eager and not knowing what to do about it. He thinks for a mortifying second how awful it would’ve been to have to retrieve them from the drawer if Luke never followed through.

“I’m ready now,” Luke says. He doesn’t look nervous, just maybe a little shy. Michael suddenly doesn’t know what to do, how to move his body. He only knows how to get transfixed by the way that the sweat on Luke’s chest gleams in the dull light of the bedside table, how his body expands over each breath he takes. He repeats the word _okay_ three times, but he doesn’t move.

“Mikey? Do you still want to do this?”

Luke’s voice is thin, a little shaky. It’s the first real sign that he’s nervous. And it changes Michael’s demeanour completely.

“Oh Luke, yes, _so_ much,” Michael says softly, placing a hand on Luke’s cheek that Luke immediately leans into. He sees his nerves soften quickly at the touch. And now, Michael feels it come over him that he has to take care of Luke, make him feel comfortable and safe and good. It doesn’t take away his nerves, but it reminds him what he should be channeling them into.

Without another word, they’re kissing again, and it’s softer this time, slower, more tender. When Luke starts whining and moving his hips more, Michael doesn’t hesitate this time to help him undress. And despite his determination to focus on giving Luke what he wants, he can’t help himself from taking a moment to admire him like this, how pretty he is, nothing on, sweating, blushing, waiting. It’s an earth-shattering sight, and he knows he’ll never come back from it.

“You’re staring,” Luke says, but he doesn’t pose it as a problem. He’s glowing under the attention.

“You’re blushing,” Michael retorts, which only makes Luke blush more.

He catches his gaze. It’s dark, alluring, so inescapable — and it’s probably the first time they’ve sustained eye contact the whole night. Which feels terrifying for Michael, but it also feels like something collapsing inside of him. Maybe it’s his fear.

He takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna get the... the lube now. Use my fingers to, you know, ease you into it. That okay?” Before he can finish asking, Luke’s nodding, anticipating, watching Michael with his mouth hanging open. His chest moves so much as he breathes, and Michael watches, uses it as his anchor as he opens the bottle and pours it onto his hand.

Before pushing in, he leans into Luke’s ear. _Take care of him, make him feel comfortable and safe and good_ , he reminds himself. “This might hurt,” he whispers, “or maybe feel a little strange. Just let me know if you need me to stop.” Luke’s whining, nodding, pulling Michael in to kiss him, saying _please, please, please_ against his lips. So Michael listens.

He’s slow, careful, watching Luke’s every reaction. Luke — whose head is thrown back against the pillow; lip pulled between his teeth — lets Michael know when he’s ready for more. He’s a little impatient, a little desperate, a little whiny, and Michael has the realization that knowing this about Luke is going to absolutely ruin him for the rest of his life.

Luke only has to beg for a second longer before Michael pulls back and reaches for the condom. He gets himself out of his pants, rolls it on, and tries not to look at the needy way that Luke is watching him.

He adds more lube. Kisses Luke’s hip, his stomach, his chest, his neck, takes advantage of having access to every part of him. He whispers in his ear asking if he’s ready, telling him to say stop if he needs to, but Luke isn’t listening. He’s pulling Michael into a kiss by his hair, tilting his hips up, waiting.

Michael steadies himself, takes a deep breath, pushes inside. He’s slow, sure to stay attentive no matter how much his brain is fogged up, blinded by how good it feels.

Luke is reduced to soft moans, short, breathy words that don’t form sentences, hands digging into Michael’s shoulders, teeth and lips on his neck and chest. When Michael asks him if he’s okay, he responds with quick nods, repeats, “Yeah,” over and over again like he’s scared Michael will stop.

Michael can feel himself coming undone, feel his legs weakening beneath him-

“Touch me,” Luke calls out, eyes squeezed shut. So Michael listens.

They kiss and move together and soon Luke’s grip on the back of Michael’s neck is tightening. His pretty, short, high moans send Michael over the edge, and then Luke’s coming into his hand, all over his own chest. Michael watches and has a devastating moment where he thinks that it might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

But when he looks down and sees Luke staring at him, trying to catch his breath, pink and gleaming with sweat and looking like every beautiful painting he’s ever seen hanging in a museum, he realizes he was wrong. _This_ is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He rolls onto his side, but Luke’s still watching him. They stay like that for a while, just breathing and watching each other. And Michael’s not sure what Luke’s thinking. He finds himself fabricating things in his mind, getting self-conscious under his gaze.

Until Luke leans over, places a hand on Michael’s chest. And kisses him sweetly.

“Thank you,” he says, and Michael could almost laugh at how absurd it is to thank him, as if Luke wasn’t the one to just give him something he’s wanted for what seems like forever.

So he thinks it’s only right to say what he’s really thinking. “No. Thank _you_.” And he doesn’t regret saying it like he would’ve earlier that same day.

Luke smiles. Michael thinks he looks beautiful like that.

 _Take care of him_ , his thoughts remind him, and then he’s getting up.

“Where are you going?” Luke whines, but Michael is back quickly with a wet cloth to wipe down Luke’s chest.

Luke’s watching him, eyes sparkling. Michael looks up at him, looks away, then looks up at him again. “What is it, why are you staring?”

“You’re sweet,” he says quietly.

“Well,” Michael says, and he can’t help being the one to blush now. “Can’t leave you to have to clean up the mess your _first_ time.”

“Right,” Luke says over a laugh. “But maybe my _second_ time.” Michael feels his heart pick up at the implication.

When Michael lays back down and Luke cuddles into him, his heart picks up even more, and he wonders if Luke will stay here, close to him like this, until morning.


	2. Luke didn't stay until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof. didn't think i'd keep writing this, but here i am

Luke didn’t stay until morning.

Of course he didn’t, Michael thinks to himself, the voice in his head biting and mean. He has to literally shake his head to stop his brain from sadistically twisting the knife of self-deprecation. But of course he didn’t. Of course he didn’t stay until morning. That’s not what last night was supposed to be.

Michael regrets that he let himself be weak enough to think that it could be the beginning of something he had been aching for.

He rolls over to check his phone and is surprised to see it’s only 9 am. As he throws the phone back on the nightstand, he sees a sticky note with a message.

_Just working out with Calum, didn’t want to fuck then dip. Thanks for last night._

The note is littered with tiny hearts like a child’s valentine and every angsty feeling Michael was holding onto immediately flutters away at the sight of it. Fine, maybe Luke isn’t an absolute asshole. And maybe he’s stupid for ever thinking he could be, because one of the reasons he loves Luke so much is how he’s always attentive to others’ feelings and always sincere with his own. Fine.

Michael feels so embarrassed the moment he realizes that he’s been holding the note to his chest like it’s a love letter.

As he gets out of bed and climbs in the shower, he thinks with a mix of dread and excitement about how the day ahead of him might go. Dread thinking about all of the embarrassment, the potential rejection, and, _god_ , the awful questions that are going to get asked by Calum and

Ashton. But excitement at the idea that, maybe, somehow, there’s the tiniest possibility that this thing that once seemed like an impossibility to Michael could turn into more than just a one-night thing.

He tries to think objectively about last night, tries to wade through the thickness of his own want and the intensity of his emotions to find some kind of truth about how Luke was feeling. The hot water aimed at his spine keeps him in his body and away from the dangerous corners of his brain, which produces thoughts that are so cruel and masochistic at times. If he silences the worm in his head that’s trying to convince him he’s a pathetic mess for ever entertaining that Luke might want him back, he can remember that Luke, too, was full of want last night. He was eager, and desperate, and fixated on Michael’s every move. He was pleading. He was anxious. He wanted Michael to be the one to be the first to share something with him he had been too terrified to share with anyone else.

That has to mean something.

But Michael’s never been very good at believing that people like him.

His love for Luke feels so suffocatingly huge that it’s hard to imagine Luke feeling even a fraction of the same weight. For years, it’s been a spectre encroaching in from the corner of his vision, demanding attention. Demanding to be spoken out loud.

But he’s always kept it to himself for fear of losing the intimate way Luke is with him, how they’ve always been together. As much as he’s in love with Luke, he’s also his best friend. Luke is a safe space to be honest. Luke is the thing that feels most familiar when he’s missing home. Luke is the most talented and creative person he’s met and it inspires him to be a better artist.

As he starts to think about Luke as a musician, Michael has the jolt of realization that him and Luke aren’t just best friends who had sex with each other last night. They’re also bandmates.

Bandmates. People whose industry relevance and financial stability are so deeply entangled with each others’ failures and successes. God, isn’t this how every good band eventually falls apart, with sex and heartbreak driving them to their catastrophic end?

The water in the shower turns cold at the same time Michael’s thoughts do.

The potential threat to their careers, no matter how real it might actually be, is what makes Michael decide that he can’t let Luke know how he feels.

\--

Michael doesn’t know what time Luke woke up to work out, but he avoids the hotel gym anyway, just in case. The thought of having to decide how to address him after last night is nauseating, so he decides instead to not do it for as long as he can.

Unfortunately, Ashton doesn’t grant him the luxury of being able to evade thinking about it for very long.

He’s smirking at him from his seat at a table the second he turns the corner to the hotel dining area.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” Michael spits before Ashton has a chance to say a thing. But, of course, Ashton has no intention of complying. As Michael settles into the chair across from him, he’s already got his mouth open to speak.

“Must be nice to get laid on tour while the rest of us are working hard,” he says over the brim of his coffee cup. The look in his eyes is so smug that Michael feels like punching him in his stupid fucking face.

“Fuck off,” is all he has the energy to reply, but Ashton won’t leave it alone.

“So, what, are you and Luke a thing now?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck compelled you to literally have sex. Did it end up actually happening?”

“Please shut up.”

“Oh my god, you actually fucked Luke Hemmings.”

Michael just drops his head into his hands in reply. He gathers from the wolf whistle that Ashton lets out that it’s enough of a response for him to get the picture. He wants to tell him to fuck off again, to tell Ashton it’s none of his business who he has sex with. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he feels a new ache spread through his chest.

“Have you seen…” he starts to say behind his hand, but his voice comes out so soft and unsure that it alarms him. He clears his throat and tries again. “Have you seen him yet today?”

“Luke? He’s just on a run with Cal.”

“But did you see him?”

Ashton looks up from his breakfast and gives him a strange look. A worried one, like he can sense Michael is stressed, but has not a clue why. It makes Michael want to hide in his sweater and never be looked at again.

“Yeah, I saw him,” Ashton said.

“How did he look?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“I don’t know, like… normal. He looked normal.”

Michael’s not sure why that response hurts him. He leans back in his chair, bridge of his nose pinched tight between two fingers, and thinks about how _not normal_ he feels right now.

“Did something happen?” Ashton asks cautiously after Michael is quiet for a few seconds too long.

“No, nothing.” Michael tries to sound nonchalant, like he doesn’t care, like last night didn’t shift his world in a devastatingly unrequited way, but he’s pretty sure his voice still betrays the things he wishes he could keep to himself. It’s a good thing Ashton is usually pretty dense when it comes to, well, everything. “Nothing bad happened, it was a good time.”

“Oh, gross, I don’t need to hear that. Go get something to eat before you start telling me any details.”

Michael’s not exactly sure he could stomach food right now, but he listens to Ashton anyway.

\--

Backstage at the venue for the night’s show, hours before having to be on stage, Michael, Ashton, and Calum are sitting around a table playing cards to fill the time. Luke was there at one point too, but he was pulled away to do promotional pictures before they could even deal him into the game. And while Michael’s really, _honestly_ trying his hardest to care about playing cards, he’s only able to do so much when his attention is being entirely consumed by wondering when Luke’s going to walk back through the door. It feels like every few seconds he cycles between waiting anxiously for him to come back, and hoping that he never has to face him ever again.

Of course, he feels like he’d prefer the latter when Luke finally re-enters the room.

“Ashton, your turn,” Michael hears in Luke’s pretty voice, but he doesn’t look up. In fact, he has to resist every urge to hide in his hoodie like an embarrassed child. When Ashton hops up to go get his photo taken, Luke takes his place, cards and all. Michael knows he has to force himself to look at him. Luke’s so unashamed, and Michael would never want him to think that what they did last night was somehow embarrassing for him. So, in an effort to make sure his friend doesn’t think he hates him, Michael looks up.

When he does, Luke’s already got his eyes on him, and when their gazes meet, he winks.

It’s not a flirty wink at all, it’s entirely friendly, and Michael is logically aware that Luke is just giving it to him as a form of silent reassurance, just for the two of them. But today, it’s just a little too much for Michael to handle, so he has to stand up and find something to drink, eat, anything to get him away from that spot on the couch across from Luke.

“What are you doing?” Calum asks. His voice reads as relaxed, not that interested, but Michael thinks he catches something more concerned in his eyes. Unlike Ashton, Calum’s not so dense. He certainly can sense Michael’s paranoid-animal-in-a-cage energy, but that’s not something Michael wants to think about right now.

He offers up a mumbled “Snacks” in reply to Calum’s question as he walks off to the food table behind the couch that’s set up with sandwiches and drinks. He wishes with agitation that there was a goddamn wall or something between them, because even from here, he feels like there are eyes on him. Maybe there aren’t—there probably aren’t—and even if there are, he isn’t sure whether he’d prefer they were Calum’s or Luke’s, but both feel like a bad option right now.

Luke’s voice sounds deeper today, his accent a little thicker, like he just woke up and hasn’t had a chance yet to put on the character he wears for the world.

For the first real time since they fell asleep naked in each other’s arms last night, he gets to see Luke. He gets to watch him, and listen to him talk and laugh and look so… normal. Normal. There’s that word again, stabbing away at Michael’s chest like a weapon. _Why does he get to feel normal when I feel so fucking flipped inside out?_

“Hey.” Luke’s soft, deep voice cuts through Michael’s thoughts and brings him back to his body. He’s stepping closer to him, crowding right in on his space. Michael’s pinned against the food table now, Luke’s fist in his shirt again, faces too close for comfort.

“Hey,” he squeaks out in reply. It’s the best he can muster right now.

For just a second too long, Michael’s mind lingers on Luke’s fist in his shirt. Lingers on how it felt last night to have Luke pull on it in a way so similar to what he’s doing now, except with pleading eyes, asking him to take it off and fuck him. And, _god_ , if he had any chance of getting the memory out of his head, Luke yanks it away as he leans in and puts his mouth so close to the shell of Michael’s ear before speaking.

“Missed you today,” he says in a warm whisper.

Michael just nods, worried any sounds that might come out of his mouth right now would betray him.

“Did you miss me?”

He nods again.

“I was thinking about you all day.” Luke’s tone is definitely not casual now, definitely not just friendly, and Michael almost panics the moment he realizes it. Luke was a little needy last night, sure, but more in an anxious way than in a sultry one. Them having sex was just Michael doing him a favour. And just as he was starting to force himself to come to terms with that, Luke is deciding to undo it all right now by standing so close to him, so close that you’d easily forget they’re not alone in this room.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Luke’s hand uncurls from around Michael’s shirt, moves up his chest and past his neck to play with the hair around his ear. If it was anyone else, all of this would feel sadistic, like being deliberately toyed with. But if Michael’s honest, him and Luke are often this close, this tangled up in each other. The only difference now is that all of this is charged in a way it’s never been before.

Luke pulls back away from his suffocatingly close spot by Michael’s ear. “I’ve been thinking…” he mumbles, looking up just slightly through his eyelashes. Michael’s knees feel a little like jelly at the sight of it.

“What is it?”

“Well,” Luke starts, and Michael wishes so badly that he didn’t notice the pink blush that filled his cheeks as he said it. “There’s just… still so much you’ve yet to teach me.”

Michael holds his breath.

“I was hoping, well… hoping you’d let me stop by again tonight so maybe we can fix that.”

The pit in Michael’s stomach is heavy and burning hot like a raging fire. His brain is screaming _anything you want anything you want anything you want_ over and over and over again the same way it always does around Luke, like a magical incantation he’s been cursed to repeat until his death—which, with the way he feels under Luke’s gaze right now, might come sooner than expected.

“What do you want me to teach you?” The words definitely come out of his mouth, but they feel so far away to him.

Luke’s blush only reddens.

“Uh…” His eyes scan over Michael’s body like he’s searching for an answer, but the look on his face betrays that he already has one. “I’m sure you can use your imagination.”

“Yeah… yeah, okay. Yeah. Of course we can. Anything you want.”

Luke’s eyes glow and he bounces on his heals a little in excitement. “Great, okay. Don’t exhaust yourself on stage tonight then.” With a squeeze of Michael’s hand and a smile that’s almost absurdly shy, he bounces off, back to the couch to continue the card game. Like nothing happened at all.

Unfortunately, when Michael also returns to the couch, Calum is definitely, one hundred percent staring at him, making no effort to hide his concerned look.


End file.
